I clench my hand around my drink and notice Ryan looking at me. He has the smile of a man who finally got what he wanted most in the world. Good for him, I guess. I tilt my drink toward him because I know I should. I helped him get where he is today. Him being with Virginia again should make me happy, but I don’t care.
Everybody is getting fucked but me. Well, I am, but not literally. Ian has his kinky ways. Ryan is doing whatever he should. Asher always has a girl. Emma… well, I’m not thinking about my little sister’s sex life. And then there’s Luke… Luke and his all-American boy who’s not a fan of anal. Beardy is the reason I’m drinking gin tonight.
He smells like a mix of gin and lemon. I realized that this afternoon. It took me months to put my finger on it, and once I did, I wanted to kiss him. I would have gone much further this afternoon, but my phone rang. I don’t care if he’s still with Bruce the Moose. I chuckle at my stupid joke. Bruce the Moose. He sure looks like one.
I’m past sanity-drunk.
I feel dead inside.
I’m losing control again, but did I ever have any? I thought I was controlling everything happening with my father, but he died. I couldn’t save him. He died without saying his last words to me.
Emma said her goodbye. He told her to become the woman she wanted to be and to be happy. He hoped she would find a love as fierce as the one he’d found with her mother.
Ellen had plenty of time to say goodbye to the love of her life.
Even fucking Clay had a sit-down with my dad and got whatever he was always looking for.
Me? Nothing. Dad held my hand in silence, looked at me with tears in his eyes, and when I started to say what I needed to tell him, he asked me to stop. He didn’t say goodbye, and I didn’t say thank you. He died on me, without me.
In a way, I understand. Why would he want to talk to me? I’d failed when I was most needed. I couldn’t fix anything for him. I’ve spent the last twenty years finding solutions to everyone else’s problems, but the day my father’s life is in my hands, I wither. I should have come back earlier and taken care of him. I was selfish not to do so. If only I had been here from the beginning, I could have found a specialist to cure his dizziness. I could have prevented it all. I would have pushed him to go see a doctor earlier and tried to get him tested. Why didn’t I come back? To get laid a little more? To fix the contracts of some assholes? Why?
My sullen mood lightens when Clay appears, drunk on the beach. Not because I’m happy to see my shitdick of a brother, but because I hope getting him back in the house can be my escape for the night. I’d prefer to be alone, polishing off any bottle I can find, rather than being surrounded by my friends and family.
Clay had it all. The girl, the popularity, the looks. He fucked up his life for some stupid shit. He destroyed Virge and became a low-life douchebag who can’t take responsibility for his actions, but he’s still my brother.
He stumbles into the sand, and I get up abruptly. I don’t need to spend one more second on the beach where my father and I used to run every Sunday.
“Shit,” I say, “I have to take care of him.” He’s my obligation, my perfect excuse to flee.
Ryan gets up as well and puts his hand on my shoulder, but I jerk back. I don’t want him to touch me. I’m not sure I can have any more human contact today. Well, I could, but in a rough, animalistic kind of way, and that won’t be happening. I don’t have the strength to find a piece of ass.
“Let Ian and me take care of it,” Ryan says. I send him a pleading look to let me do it, but he raises his hands. “Come on, Dex, you need a break. You’ll have to take care of the funeral tomorrow, your stepmom, Emma, Asher. Let us take care of him tonight.”
Ryan and Ian leave with Clay, and I sit back down, slouching my shoulders in defeat. I tilt my glass, trying to get the last drop of the drink I despise.
“You don’t need an excuse to go, babe. If you want to leave, I’ll walk you back to the house.”
I can feel his beard brushing my ear. It’s subtle but sexy as fuck. And him calling me babe? Fuck, I missed it. When he did so last week, my heart shattered. I’m so not what that man needs. I’ve never met someone so at peace with who he is. He doesn’t need fixing. He takes care of his own shit. There’s nothing I can do for him—except make him come harder than anybody ever will. But that’s not enough to build a life on, even if he gets me in a way nobody ever has. Not even Virginia.
“Did you hear me, little prince?”
That’s the other nickname I used to hate.
“You stay, Luke. I need to be alone.” I stand and say my goodbyes.
I can see them worrying about me, and that warms my heart as much as it annoys me. I’m not a DIY project for a soul cleanse. They’ve dropped their shit in my lap for the last twenty years. I can take care of myself. But if I’m honest, I know I would be a basket case without them here tonight. Even Julie. God knows I don’t like her, but I’m glad she’s here.
I walk straight to my bedroom. I thought I wanted to drink a little more, but I can’t. I can’t lose myself again. I need to clear my mind.
That’s how I end up under the stream of an icy shower. Every limb hurts from the weight of the pain I carry, but the cold numbs me and I finally let it all go. All of my feelings for my parents, their divorce, Virginia, Clay, Asher, Ian, and of course Luke. The lump in my stomach makes its way to my throat, and I crouch, afraid to throw up in the shower.
My father used to say that it’s not crying if tears fall from your eyes while water falls from the faucet. So I stay there, not crying until there isn’t one tear left in me. Spent and empty, I finally get out, my body as blue as I feel.
As I wrap a towel around my waist, there’s a light knock on my bedroom door. My shrunk, cold dick gets its hopes up. What wouldn’t I give for Luke to be behind that door, but it’s Ian.
“Hey, Dex. Just wanted to check on you before I go to bed. Do you need anything?”
I smile at him. He’s trying. It’s not his fault I keep him at arm's length. I lied to him for so long, always afraid I’d slip up and tell him that I knew Virginia was an addict or that I’m the one who gave her the first dose of coke. I shake my head to remove those thoughts from my mind, but also to say that I don’t need anything.
“Everybody decided to sleep at my house, even Ellen and Emma. They couldn’t stay here tonight. If you need one of us, make your way over. There’s always room for you.”
Once in bed, of course I can’t sleep. All I can think about is my father. It’s as if every single moment I remember with him is enhanced by his loss.
I’m six, and he’s teaching me to write my “a” properly.
I’m around nine, and he takes me to my first hockey game in Detroit.
I’m eleven, and I realize he doesn’t know how to skate, so I decide to teach him.
I’m fifteen, and he talks to me about girls and how to be careful not to become a father too young. I laugh and say he has nothing to fear.
I’m eighteen, and Ian leaves for Los Angeles. I tell Dad I want to be a lawyer so I can help my friend with his contracts. I remember my father’s pride when I decided to follow his footsteps to attend law school and his worry about my feelings for Ian. Ian always considered me like a brother, but I had a crush on him for the longest time. Then guilt took over all the feelings I had toward my best friend.